Books? How, or to what end? For is not reading a kind of preparation for living, but living itself made up of things other than books? It is as if an athlete, when he enters the stadium, should break down and weep because he is not exercising outside. This is what you were exercising for; this is what the jumping-weights, and the sand, and your young partners were all for. So are you now seeking for these, when it is the time for action?
To create anything of beauty, daring, and substance that makes the world see itself afresh — be it a revolutionary law of planetary motion or the Starry Night — is the work of lonely persistence against the tides of convention and conformity, often at the cost of the visionary’s aching ostracism from the status quo they are challenging with their vision.
To be clear, I don’t feel I’m out to make the world see itself afresh. I am out to create better conversations to spread understanding and compassion. And while I understand, now having read a bit more about John Coltrane, how a certain type of genius might need a certain type of loneliness to do their work. That’s not me and my work.
I’m finding that I’m thriving on podcasting. It is a stupid amount of work; Yes, I’ve chosen to set things up, and to set challenges and goals, to create that amount of work. It’s even physically challenging, for example, I’m on a road-trip this week with multiple +4-hour driving days. But I know what I’m in for, and I know what’s going to happen once I press record. Magic. Obviously, a big part of that comes from me, but a critical part of it comes from the other people. I’ve always heard talk of how “creative types” can get lonely. I’ve come around to accepting the label of “creative type.” I recharge in alone time. But I think I thrive when creating in concert with others.
How can podcasting, particularly reflective solo episodes, enable personal growth, storytelling, and audience connection?
Reflecting on one year of podcasting reveals unexpected lessons about authenticity and audience connection.
Some ideas that might be cliché—which is another fear of mine, but nevertheless, it was what I learned—that we are all more similar than different. And it’s worth saying that, because a lot of these parents struggle with being sort of put in a category other than what’s considered normal. And what I realized is, first of all, normal is overrated and that there is no such thing as normal.
~ Carole Blueweiss (13:10)
This conversation explores the challenges and growth associated with podcasting, particularly solo episodes and reflective storytelling. Topics include finding an authentic voice, balancing preparation with spontaneity, and the iterative process of creating meaningful episodes. Carole reflects on how removing notes and speaking freely deepened their authenticity, transforming their approach to podcasting.
Additionally, the conversation dips into universal themes uncovered through interviews with parents of children with special needs. These parents’ stories highlight societal constructs like normalcy and disability, emphasizing shared human experiences. The discussion expands to broader societal issues, such as inclusion and accessibility, while expressing hope for creating empathy and understanding through storytelling.
The ideal agent’s frame of reference is thus her whole life, represented as accurately as a human being can remember its history and imagine its future, and lived as intelligently as a human being can exploit its possibilities.
Remember that it is not oly a desire for riches and power that makes you abject and subservient to others, but also a desire for quiet and leisure, and travel and learning. For the value you place on an external object, whatever it may be, makes you subservient to another.
Anicet Desrochers slips the small, crowbar-like tool underneath the lid of the beehive and cracks the propolis seal, a glue that bees make from resin. He puffs a smoker over the box as he pulls and examines the honeycomb frames with bare hands. The smoke, he says, disrupts the bees’ alarm pheromones, making them groggy, while also causing them to gorge on honey and nectar, a possible response to believing there is a fire. When they’re full, they’re less likely to sting.
How does persistence shape the creative and personal processes involved in podcasting?
Audio’s timeless richness offers a counterpoint to the overwhelming world of visual media.
Every time I finish an episode I step right back into my little recording booth and think, ‘What’s next?’ It sort of builds that cycle back up again. So that’s been a really positive experience.
~ Bruce Devereux (2:18)
The conversation explores the role of persistence in podcasting, reflecting on its significance in sustaining creative momentum and overcoming challenges. The discussion highlights the iterative process of producing episodes, where the cycle of finishing one and immediately conceptualizing the next becomes an energizing force. Persistence is seen not only as a key to podcasting success but also as a framework for managing the broader challenges of creative work.
Additionally, the conversation goes into the distinction between audio and visual storytelling, emphasizing audio’s unique ability to engage listeners in an immersive, focused experience. Bruce contrasts the richness of audio with the ubiquity of visual content, advocating for simplicity in both podcast production and lifestyle. Themes of managing creative thoughts, balancing personal input with guest presence, and crafting meaningful soundscapes also emerge, painting a holistic picture of the podcasting journey.
The teachings of your instructor constitute only a small fraction of what you will learn. Your master of each movement will depend almost completely on individual, earnest practice.
In the past, I’ve enjoyed posting these sort of photo essays. (For example, there are several of them from a 2014 adventure in Colorado.) The hard part, of course, is getting somewhere and taking the photos.
Back in August, we spent a half-day at the Corning Museum of Glass, in Corning, New York. (Yes, the Corning, New York, of Corning Ware repute.) It turns out that Corning is quite the hot spot—sorry, couldn’t resist—for glass work in general. To wit:
If you’re going to make a gallery for displaying glass, this is the way to do it. More glass than not in the ceiling with hung-vertically dividers; The entire space is flooded with natural light, but you don’t see the light’s source, unless you look straight up. The ceiling is flat; the space is not rectangular.
Note the three “trees” at the far end of the room. They are not what they appear to be.
In another space, just around the corner…
Murano, as in the islands in Venice, Italy. In the top-right of that Carrion’s photo, you can see this piece…
And this sphere, for which I neglected to snap the description. It’s composed of folded ribbons of glass, and it’s appearance is the same whatever direction you look at it. There’s a bright, omni-directional light inside. The glass wall behind the piece extends the entire height of the building, not just the floor of this gallery. There’s an applique that is about half-round holes, half opaque white—so the outside world is visible curiously obscured as if by fog.
Hey, I’m pretty good at this photo essay stuff! Not. The trick it to have spectacular things to photograph. Like this iconic piece by Dale Chihuly. It’s “simply” hundreds of similarly blow glass pieces which are individually, (each has a hole in the interior end,) slid onto the countless small pins sticking out of the central armature.
In another gallery, there were countless, large cases with displays like this, where I kept going, “wat? holy crap!” (I’d make a great, R-rated, museum tour guide.)
Really. Holy crap!
Finally, I’ll leave you with this piece. (I have photos of many more, and there were thousands of things I gaped at and didn’t photograph.) This was very difficult to capture in photographs. There are two, four-legged figures inside this case. They have legs made from square-sided bottles. The two figures are similar, but not identical, and are posed marching, one after the other. I’ve taken a photo from before them, looking past them on one side and the other. The case is a size that you could put your hands on either end and is in a darkened area in the museum. There are only two figures in the case— everything else is repeated, internal reflections…
Choose, then, which you prefer, to be loved as you used to be by those who loved you formerly by remaining like your former self, or to be better and not meet with that same affection. For if this latter course is preferable, direct yourself at once to that, and do not let the other considerations draw you away from it; for no one can make progress while facing two ways.